Hi Caroline, take a seat. So how can I help you today?
I’d like you to assess me for my Medical Certificate for Motor Vehicle Driver. I’m going to be a cabbie.
Jeese…that came out weird. I never thought I’d be a cabbie. Driving drunk people around late at night, sweat, garlic breath and vomit. Or suits who want the fast and quick cut to the airport to catch a flight ‘to a conference’.
So, Caroline, can you please do a urine sample? Off I pop to the loo, walking through the middle of the waiting room, people looking at me funny, carrying my little jar. Seriously, I’m an athlete being drug tested! Squatting over the loo I delicately aim into the little plastic jar, wondering, exactly how much do I put in there? A trickle or a stream? I look down at the cloudy liquid. YUK. I empty it into the loo and proceed to fill it up, feeling very satisfied by my ability to control my bladder so well. Which reminds me I need to do more pelvic floor work.
So I trot back into the Doctors room for which he pops in a litmus paper. I look at the colours processing, nervously. He kindly tells me I do not have protein or glucose in my wee and that I am not Diabetic. *PHEW*
Running down the list he stops at “Any psychological history?” I blurt out NO! I’m normal! Damn. I wonder if they actually check that stuff out? I do see a shrink, and on a Ten Pass Medical discount card. But he didn’t ask “Are you a lier?” so as my friend says, that’s his fault!
Do you consume alcohol? No. He pauses. Looks at me. Ticks the ‘NO’ box. Well that was awkward.
Now stand over here and look at this eye chart. Are you Fcuking kidding me? That’s not a normal eye chart. That’s an eye chart for a child! Place your hand over your right eye. Now read this line. I get my focus. At this point my forehead was building up some sweat. I very slowly say the letter as he runs his finger across the line. Put your hand on your other eye. Now this line. Again. I repeat the process. I really am blind. But he assures me I got these right. Okay, now stand on one foot and close your eyes. WTF?! That’s easy! I do it. I wobble. OMG I really do need to work on my core. At this point I was sure I was going to fail.
He kindly offers me a seat. Now, do you have any history of heart disorder? HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. I had SVT. So he says, what did you do about it? I told him I had an oblation to the node and that my heart is as good as apples, only every now and again it goes into the Extreme Suffer score on my Strava upload. He stared at me blankly, ticking a box. And the result? Well actually, besides the surgeon screwing it up and making my femoral artery bleed into my leg, the outcome was relatively pleasing!
Moving onto the next question. Okay, what other surgeries besides this did you have? Well that was a day surgery so really that surely cannot be counted as a proper surgery which involves knives? Poker face…okay so yes I have had a bit of surgery on my arm. I dislocated, tore my rotator cuff and ripped a bit of bone of my humorous. Oh, and have permanent nerve damage which makes me deltoid-less. FARK! He was looking at me funny now. How many surgeries on this arm? Two I reply. Can I see your arm? I present him with it and say, hey totally rad scar don’t you think? Yes, that is a decent one! Do you have an automatic car or a manual, he asked? OMG. Okay. So I have a manual car. Pause. So it’s for the benefit of my arm so it doesn’t get lazy? He pulls a smile. Okay so I think I got him.
My heart rate was perfectly normal. Winning! Off I go to pay. The receptionist kindy asks for $150. I gasp! Is there a Medicare rebate? I’m unemployed! No, I’m sorry there isn’t…I pause…I draw my hand into my wallet…she says, just a moment…she is on the phone. The Dr said $100 will be okay. I was gob smacked! I showed her my appreciation and was on my way to the transport department for Lodgement of an Industry Authority Application. Number D332! Counter 2!